Everyone Loves a Parade
by Morfiwien Greenleaf
Summary: Having gone legitimate, Harold Hill prepares for the public debut of his Think System. But on the day of the big parade, he is challenged by a skeptical newspaper reporter who not only doubts his veracity, but unabashedly pursues Marian Paroo.
1. Allegro Agitato

The morning of the big parade had finally arrived. Professor Harold Hill, who hadn't even attempted to sleep the night before, was dressed and out of the boarding house as soon as the sun peeked up over the horizon. Initially, he had been determined to spend the night at the emporium, in case he thought of any other last-minute but crucial preparations for the impending concert, but Marian insisted he break for rest and refreshment. Looking into his beloved's wide hazel eyes, the charming music professor found himself unhesitatingly accepting her invitation to dinner – and promising that afterward he would head straight home and not leave until daylight dawned on August thirty-first. To ensure he kept this promise – not two minutes after he locked the emporium's doors, Harold tried to coax his dear little librarian into letting him return later that evening – Marian escorted him to the boarding house herself.

To his credit, Harold kept his promise, and did not attempt to sneak back to the music emporium. However, although he was no longer a conman, he wasn't averse to bending the rules to suit himself; instead of sleeping, he paced back and forth in his tiny room, pausing every so often to organize his scattered thoughts by writing them down in the notepad he kept on his bedside table. When the sun finally came up, he threw on a fresh shirt and suit-coat and hastened to the emporium.

To his surprise, Harold found Marian waiting for him by the main entrance. But Marian was clearly not surprised, as evidenced by the knowing smile with which she greeted him. "Good morning, Professor Hill."

Harold grinned. "It's awfully early to be up and about – even for punctual librarians," he teased. "I wasn't expecting you for at least another hour!"

Marian regarded him with a mischievous gleam in her eye. "I could go home again, if you'd like."

But Harold had already unlocked and thrown open the front doors – he grabbed her hand and pulled her into the building. "No sense in wasting time, if you're already here! We've still got a lot to do before the parade sets off at noon sharp from the high school, and I've got a feeling the hours are going to fly by quickly… "

The morning was indeed a whirlwind of activity. Harold was acutely aware this parade would make or break his fledgling business, and he was determined that the second public debut of the Think System would go perfectly – so much so that Marian smiled at his nervousness and urged him to relax.

"You're too keyed up, darling – everything's going to be just fine. We're far more prepared than we were the night of July twenty-third, and that occasion was a rousing success in the eyes of the River City-ziens. Just think how much more everyone will be wowed by the boys' performance today!"

Completely engrossed in the task at hand, Harold shook his head as if the librarian's words were bothersome gnats buzzing around his ears. "I just need to count the sparklers again," he muttered feverishly. "If any of them turn out to be duds, I want to make sure we've got adequate replacements on hand. Can't have our light formation looking like a gap-toothed grin… "

Marian laughed and placed her hands over his, arresting his motions. "Harold – relax!"

"I am relaxed," the busy music professor insisted – though his stiff stature and tense tone betrayed his anxiety.

Marian laughed again. "Look at you – you're all askew," she affectionately chided. "It's not like you to be this untidy." Like a doting mother – or perhaps wife – she reached over and began to straighten out his collar and bowtie. Parade preparations forgotten, Harold relaxed and savored her touch. Though the two of them had spent many hours alone together in the emporium during the past few weeks, it was always strictly business between them – Harold made sure of that. In the interests of protecting his beloved's reputation, he had never so much as taken her hand in his, and she of course had never attempted to initiate anything remotely romantic in word or deed. Now Marian's nimble fingers were gently brushing his throat, sending pleasant little shivers down his spine; the fact that she had unconsciously engaged in this domestic, intimate gesture made her actions all the more alluring.

Not only that, Marian was wearing that attractive blue skirt and white, high-collar blouse with sleeves that only came to her elbows. Despite her deeming this nothing more than a run-of-the-mill work dress, it was one of Harold's favorite ensembles. Although the librarian had been as neatly groomed as she ever was when he greeted her that morning, a few hours of polishing instruments and other labor-intensive tasks had rendered her just as charmingly rumpled as he. And in the sweltering heat of the day, she had rolled up her already-short sleeves even further and unfastened the top button of her blouse – giving him a tantalizing view of her collarbone.

When Marian's eyes met his in the course of her tidying him up, her look of carefree merriness disappeared as Harold returned her gaze with a smoldering one of his own. Wanting to prolong this moment – it had been at least two weeks since they shared more than the briefest of embraces – he reached up and covered her hands with his. Hoping a conversational manner would temper his perhaps too-ardent expression, Harold gave Marian his trademark grin and said the first thing that leapt into his mind: "I was just remembering the night of the fireworks display on the fourth of July, and how roundly you rejected my advances. Did you ever think you'd be standing here with me, like this?"

Harold had meant to speak with the lighthearted demeanor of a man who was engaging in fond reminiscence, but his tone was far too fervent for that. When Marian blushed and lowered her gaze, he knew she had interpreted this statement as an amorous advance, and waited for her to pull away from him. But her fingers didn't even twitch beneath his. Instead, she lifted her eyes to his again and looked at him with obvious desire.

Although his intentions had been pure – for once – and his initiation of this heated exchange had been inadvertent, Harold was unable to resist such a come-hither glance from the woman he loved. Instead of letting the librarian go – as he should have – Harold slid his arms around her waist and pulled her closer. When Marian's beautiful eyes fluttered shut and her delectable crimson lips parted slightly in anticipation of his kiss, he tilted his head and leaned in, just as eager to taste delight as she.

"Ahem!"

With an annoyed frown – he hadn't even been able to so much as brush Marian's lips with his – Harold turned to face the person who had so rudely spoiled their pleasant little tête-à-tête.

A stranger stood before them. At any rate, Harold had never seen the man before. And it was also clear from Marian's bewildered expression that she wasn't familiar with the fellow, either. He wasn't a young man, but he wasn't old – Harold estimated him to be in his early thirties. With his keen sense of observation about people, which he still kept honed even though he was no longer a charlatan, the music professor observed from the stranger's olive-green suit that he was a man who followed clothing fads but also took great pains to blend into his surroundings – despite the drabness of the color, the cut of his coat and trousers was stylish enough to put even Harold's Sunday best to shame. And the man was handsome, with his light-brown, slicked-back hair and pencil moustache. The fellow looked distinguished but not too distinctive – he was a man people gravitated to, without knowing exactly why. It probably helped that his pleasant smile and broad gaze projected a wholesome, unpretentious affability – but there was also a knowing gleam in those wide eyes that suggested craftiness or, at the very least, that this fellow was a lot more aware of things than he liked to let on.

Having noted all this in a matter of milliseconds, Harold bounded over to the man's side, flashing him a jovial grin and extending his hand in greeting. "Why, you must be Mr. Gallup, from the _Des Moines Register__ and Leader_! Pleased to meet you. I must say this is an unexpected pleasure – I thought you'd be here around eleven!"

The man nodded and shook the music professor's hand in return. As Harold had surmised, Mr. Gallup's grip was hearty and pleasantly firm. "I'm sorry if I interrupted you at a bad time," the reporter said with an apologetic smile, "but the doors were wide open and, in any case, I didn't see a quarantine sign!"

"Indeed," Harold muttered, inwardly cursing himself for his misstep. The one time he contemplated breaking his "no canoodling with Marian in the emporium" rule, and a member of the press was there to witness his lapse!

"Since my train got in early, I thought I'd get right down to business," Mr. Gallup explained. The reporter's gaze wandered over to Marian, who had refastened the top button of her blouse and was now hastily smoothing back a few errant strands that had fallen from her chignon. His smile broadened into a grin. "After all, the early bird gets the worm! Wouldn't you agree, Madam?"

Harold's own grin didn't even waver. "Allow me to introduce to you Miss Marian Paroo," he said grandly. "She is my extremely able and talented assistant, whose musical knowledge was instrumental to the development of my Think System."

"Charmed to make your acquaintance, my dear," Mr. Gallup said warmly, raising Marian's hand for a kiss. "Forgive my boldness – but you've got the loveliest blonde tresses I've ever seen – when Robert Browning wrote of 'smooth cords of gold,' he must have had you in mind!"

Although such a brazen compliment might have sounded sleazy coming from any other man, Mr. Gallup's dulcet twang and cordial demeanor made this statement seem like nothing more than good, old-fashioned down-home gallantry. But when Harold saw the bright smile Marian gave Mr. Gallup in return for this piece of flattery, he frowned. Since when was his maiden librarian so susceptible to such pleasantries from strange men? She would never have swallowed that line from _him_. "What say I give you a tour of the emporium, Mr. Gallup?" Harold offered, his voice booming a bit too loudly as it echoed off the walls in the massive auditorium.

"Why, I'd be delighted!" Mr. Gallup said eagerly, still not taking his eyes off of Marian. Before Harold could politely suggest to the librarian that she was free to depart the emporium for the time being, the fast-talking reporter gestured for her to accompany them. "After you, Miss Paroo."

So Marian went on the tour, much to Harold's chagrin. He wanted Mr. Gallup to be impressed with the marvel that was the Think System, not distracted by a pretty face – especially when the woman behind that gorgeous countenance was suddenly far more affable and open with her smiles than she should have been when in the presence of an openly ogling man.

But Harold needn't have worried. When he gave Mr. Gallup his carefully rehearsed but seemingly spontaneous spiel about his teaching methods and the founding of the emporium, the reporter listened attentively as a model student trying to impress his teacher. Harold would have been pleased by this, but for one thing – although Mr. Gallup had pulled out a notepad and pencil, he didn't write down a single word of the music professor's speech.

Once Harold was finished making all the points he deemed important, he masked his irritation with a smile and politely added, "If you need me to elaborate on anything for your notes, I'd be happy to explain what I told you in greater detail."

Mr. Gallup's eyes twinkled with amusement. "Thank you, but that won't be necessary." He tapped his temple. "I have a memory like a steel trap! But I do have a few questions for you."

Harold grinned as if he relished the opportunity. "Go ahead and fire when ready!"

Although the bombastic music professor was already well aware of what he was dealing with, even he was surprised by the reporter's insight. Mr. Gallup's complex questions displayed a solid knowledge of musical theory – not only was the man far from being a toneless rube, he probably could have given concert virtuosos a run for their money. Of course, Harold had prepared for such an eventuality and sailed through each inquiry with his usual finesse. At any rate, Mr. Gallup seemed satisfied enough with his answers, as he did not ask any follow-up questions.

That is, until he latched on to the subject of Harold's musical training. When Mr. Gallup inquired about formal credentials, the music professor uneasily noted that this was the first time the reporter's pencil stood poised at the ready. At first, Harold tried to downplay the matter with vague yet breezy statements about "natural talent" and "coming from a musically gifted family," but the reporter persisted in his quest for specific degrees, dates and institutions. Harold supposed he could have given him the same line he had fed to everyone when he came to River City, but a clever librarian with a penchant for doing background research had taught him the dangers of being too detailed.

Thankfully, Marian, who was avidly observing the proceedings, interrupted the interview before Harold could get too tongue-tied. "I must say, Mr. Gallup, you have an impressive knowledge of music! Do you play an instrument?"

Like a bloodhound thrown off track by a passing squirrel, Mr. Gallup turned and beamed at her. "Rather astute of you to ask, Miss Paroo! As a matter of fact, when I was a boy I played the trumpet, cello, flute and piano – to varying degrees of mediocrity," he added in a self-deprecating voice – though the pride in his eyes at having mastered so many instruments was obvious. "My real talents lay in composing – which won me a scholarship that was enough to pay for a year of instruction at the University of Iowa School of Music. Unfortunately, my more practical-minded father refused to finance my education any further, so I dropped out and took a job as a journalist, instead."

"Oh, what a shame," the librarian commiserated. Although Harold was grateful for her well-timed distraction, the genuine gleam of sympathy in her eyes rankled him.

"Fortunately, as it turns out, journalism suits me just fine, Miss Paroo," Mr. Gallup said with a smile and a shrug. He paused and regarded Marian with a pensive expression. "Paroo… am I correct in thinking that your father was Eli Paroo, the famous trumpet player?"

"Yes, he was!" Marian confirmed, her eyes lighting up in delight.

"One of the most gifted musicians I've ever met – I had the golden opportunity of seeing him perform with the Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra, many years ago." Mr. Gallup took his hands in hers. "My deepest condolences to you and your family, Miss Paroo – the music world truly lost a genius with his passing."

Marian bowed her head. "Thank you, Mr. Gallup," she said, somewhat stiffly. Harold smiled to hear her sounding like her usual, guarded self, and he was also pleased to note she extricated her hands from the reporter's much quicker than she ever pulled away from him.

At her cool response, Mr. Gallup resumed his brisk, businesslike demeanor and refocused his attentions on Harold. "Which brings me to my final question, Professor Hill: Might you at least tell me the name of the institution that conferred upon you that august title?"

Realizing there was no way to evade the matter further, Harold smoothly replied, "Well, of course – why didn't you say so before? I'm an alumnus of Gary Conservatory, Gold Medal Class of" – he paused when Marian let out a small cough – "Aught-Seven."

Mr. Gallup carefully recorded this item on his notepad. Then he paused and regarded Harold with a pensive expression. "Did Gary, Indiana even have a conservatory in aught-seven?" he mused. "As I recollect, the town wasn't even built until aught-six – "

Once again, Marian provided a fortuitous distraction. "My goodness, look at the time!" she exclaimed, eying the clock on the wall. "If you gentlemen will forgive me, I must be running along." Without further ado, she exited the auditorium.

Suddenly, Mr. Gallup also seemed eager to leave. "Indeed, the hours are positively flying by! I should get out of your hair now, Professor – I'm sure you've got a lot left to do before the beginning of the parade."

Surmising the reporter's true motive for leaving so hastily was to catch up with Marian for a cozy chat, Harold replied, "Nope, things are in pretty good shape – how about I give you the inside scoop on River City, as well?"

Mr. Gallup politely shook his head. "Thanks, but I like to get a feel for new places on my own."

"You might not get the warmest of receptions if you go it alone," Harold warned. "River City doesn't take too well to outsiders."

"I appreciate your concern, but I'm sure I'll muddle on through just fine," the reporter said cheerfully.

Harold shrugged, as if it didn't much matter to him. "Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me."

Mr. Gallup grinned as he departed the auditorium. "Indeed – I'll definitely keep that in mind!"

Even though the reporter was likely hot on his beloved's heels, Harold felt his usual confidence return – so much so that he dissolved into laughter. As friendly as the librarian behaved, he knew her gregariousness toward such strangers definitely had its limits. He also knew exactly what kind of reception the reporter was likely to get from anyone else in town with whom he tried to ingratiate himself: the River City cold shoulder.

XXX

Busy as he was with final preparations for the big parade, Harold quickly relegated the irritatingly charming and persistent Mr. Gallup to the back of his mind. But a little after eleven, when the music professor was absorbed in leading his boys in an extremely boisterous warm-up session, he felt a light but insistent tap on his shoulder that made him jump. At first, Harold turned to face the offender with a frown – he prided himself on being difficult to startle and, in any case, no one ever dared to interrupt Professor Hill when he was conducting – but when he saw the reporter gazing at him with a benign smile, he quickly put on a friendly grin and motioned for the band to take a break. Still, there was a deliberate edge to Harold's voice as he addressed Mr. Gallup:

"You have more questions for me, I presume?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do," the reporter said serenely, not even sounding the slightest bit abashed by his behavior – though he did look a bit confused as to what he had just walked in on. "I was hoping to catch you before the parade started; forgive me for interrupting your, er… rehearsal."

This time, Harold's smile was genuine; he couldn't blame even Mr. Gallup for sounding perplexed by the shrilly discordant clamor that had been coming from the boys' instruments. "It's all part of my method, what you just heard!" he cheerfully explained. "Before each performance I have the boys play as hard as they can on their instruments. No tunes or melodies allowed – just sheer exuberance! Gets out all that nervous energy so the boys can think with cool, clear heads when it comes time to perform for the crowd."

"I see," Mr. Gallup said politely – though he looked rather appalled by such brazen unorthodoxy. For a moment, the reporter stared at the music professor with the expression of bewildered speechlessness with which one reserved for the utterly daft.

Taking the opportunity to strengthen his upper hand, Harold took Mr. Gallup by the arm and breezily ushered him to the door of the auditorium. "Thanks so much for dropping by! Now if you'll excuse me, I've really got to get back to my boys before they get too restless. If that happens, we'll have to start over from square one – "

At the words "square one," Mr. Gallup blinked and shook himself as if he were coming out of a stupor. "Ah yes, that reminds me – my question for you: Who is your town's librarian?"

The music professor was so taken aback by this unexpected inquiry that he stopped in his tracks. "Librarian?" he said nonchalantly, wondering just what the reporter was playing at. "What do you need the librarian for?"

His air of serene confidence restored, Mr. Gallup smiled and replied, "I wanted to look something up at the library, but it seems to be closed for the day."

Concealing his surprise as best he could – Marian had told him she was planning to open the library for a few hours that morning – Harold nodded as if this wasn't news to him. "Yes, everyone's gearing up for the big event – is there any information I can provide you with?"

Mr. Gallup beamed, as if he had been hoping the music professor would ask precisely that. "You can, as a matter of fact. I wanted to verify I didn't mishear your class year at Gary Conservatory – there seems to be a bit of confusion." The reporter pulled out his notepad and opened it. "According to my notes from earlier this morning, you are Gold Medal Class of Aught-Seven, but everyone else I've met – especially Mayor Shinn – seems to think you are Gold Medal Class of Aught-Five."

Harold laughed with a sense of carefree lightheartedness he did not truly feel. "Aught-_five_? That's preposterous – after all, as you mentioned this morning, the town wasn't even built until aught-six. Somebody must have mistaken the year, and it stuck." He laughed again. "That's Iowa stubborn for you!"

Mr. Gallup laughed as well, but the amusement didn't quite reach his eyes. "Indeed," he agreed. "Sorry again for the intrusion, but I wanted to clear that up right away." He started to leave, and then turned back again. "Just in case anything else comes up and I can't reach you – who _is_ your town's librarian?"

Harold's grin froze. He had the nasty sense that Mr. Gallup knew quite well who the town's librarian was, and was playing a little game with him, like a cat would toy with a mouse before moving in for the kill. If Harold had still been a conman, he would have simply laughed and turned up the charm. But he was a genuine music professor now, with a legitimate band, and his pride smarted at the implication that he was engaged in some kind of chicanery. If he hadn't been so irritated, he might have laughed at the irony of the situation; for once, he had done absolutely nothing underhanded, but this reporter was one of those rare people who could put him on the defensive. Unfortunately, this wasn't a battle he could win – he was harried and in a rush to get back to his boys, and to lie or delay answering this question would raise even more suspicion. So Harold stifled his inclination to put this prying pup in his place and simply said, "That would be Marian Paroo."

The reporter's expression brightened. "Ah – Miss Paroo! Clearly a woman of many talents," he said far too happily for the music professor's liking. "Well, thanks again for your time, Professor Hill. I won't bother you anymore."

As Mr. Gallup began to exit the auditorium, whistling a jaunty tune while he went, Harold gritted his teeth and watched his nemesis depart; he refused to relax until he was certain the man had gone. _Damn sneaky reporter and his infernal interruptions…_

Mr. Gallup looked over his shoulder just before he disappeared through the double doors. "Perhaps after the parade, you can help me convince Miss Paroo to open the library for a little while."

Harold smiled and nodded, making a mental note to forget to do just that.


	2. Accelerando Trionfante

At twelve o'clock on the dot, the main doors to River City High School opened. Tommy Djilas, who was dressed in a smart red-and-white uniform that won him several dreamy, admiring glances from Zaneeta, marched out to greet the crowd gathered along the edges of River City's main avenues. With a few grand flourishes of his baton, he signaled for the music to start. The two drummer boys flanked behind him, both bearing the solemn expressions of the focused performer, crisply tapped out the opening beats to _Seventy Six Trombones_. As the boys began their forward march and played their anthem's first boisterous crescendo, Professor Harold Hill made his entrance. Far from being overbearing, his ostentatious uniform and energetic manner added to the general splendor of the tableau, and the delighted River City-ziens burst into applause.

As the boys' band made their way toward the center of town, Harold playing up his role of bandleader for all it was worth, the crowd continued to cheer their progress. However, despite this extremely promising start, the music professor did not relax. Although he grinned and gamboled along as if he were on a spontaneous, lighthearted jaunt, his mind remained at least three scheming steps ahead, ever alert for potential issues and continuously refining his planned contingencies for them. So far, the weather was cooperating nicely; though the day was hot, there was just enough of a breeze to make being outside pleasant. But the sky continued to waver between being sunny and overcast – things were "chancy" outside, as Mayor Shinn would say. If the afternoon remained nice, Harold planned to lead the parade to Madison Park pavilion. If it rained, he would have everyone adjourn to a series of awnings set up deeper in the park.

But there were a few factors that remained outside the music professor's immediate control. To his chagrin, the boys still hadn't quite grasped the concept of marching in unison – in future rehearsals he would have to devote more time to emphasizing the importance of walking in a proper glide step. Even though none of the River City-ziens seemed to notice this defect – or if they did, it obviously wasn't spoiling their enjoyment of the parade – Harold knew the eagle-eyed Mr. Gallup would certainly pick up on it. Thankfully, the music sounded as polished as any played by a traditionally trained boys' band, which was the main thing – even the haughtiest musician wouldn't be able to find anything lacking in that department. _Speaking of which_, Harold wondered as he surveyed the crowd, _where did that pesky reporter go?_

The music professor was so busy scanning the path ahead for Mr. Gallup that he didn't immediately notice Marian's approach as the parade neared Madison Public Library. But when Harold caught sight of the librarian rushing toward him with that wonderful beaming smile, her joyful gaze fixed solely on him, he forgot about everything else but her. Marian had worn that lovely pink-and-white ensemble and set her hair in banana curls, just as he requested, and she looked absolutely stunning.

Taking his beloved's hand and entwining her arm with his, Harold gave her a sly grin. "I don't remember that hat."

Marian laughed with the coy but unmistakable delight a woman always displayed when her beau happened to notice her attire. "It's new – I saw it in a shop window last week and thought it would add a little something extra to the gown."

Although he continued to grin for the benefit of the crowd, Harold's voice was serious as he replied, "It's beautiful." He sneaked a sideways glance at her. "You're beautiful."

Marian's response to his heartfelt compliment was enchanting – not only did her head bow slightly as her cheeks crimsoned, her smile grew even broader and she gave his hand an affectionate squeeze.

After that little exchange, Harold's rational mind was in shambles. He tried to remain focused on the road ahead, but he had difficulty marshalling his concentration – one look at Marian, and his thoughts would scatter. She truly was the most alluring woman he'd ever met. And it didn't help matters that as the prim librarian fell in love with him, she came out of her shell; her necklines had gotten gradually lower over the past few months. But this generally only applied to her evening dresses; he had never seen Marian in such a revealing ensemble in broad daylight. Harold always relished the opportunity to see more of her lovely neck and shoulders, and today was no exception. Marian's pristine skin gleamed tantalizingly in the bright sunlight (the clouds had finally dissipated, but Harold was only aware of this phenomenon inasmuch as it affected the heavenly vision next to him). As such, the music professor's carefree demeanor was no longer a calculated act; marching next to the woman he loved, all he could do was grin from ear to ear and let the music and merriment of the crowd carry him along.

It wasn't until the River City boys' band came to Madison Park pavilion and concluded _Seventy Six Trombones_ with a much more artful flourish than they had ended their prior performance in July – and Marian let go of his arm – that Harold was able to recover his senses. The first thing he noticed was Mr. Gallup leaning in a devil-may-care fashion against one of the pillars at the entrance to the park and watching the proceedings with a cool, impassive expression.

Harold intended to go over to the reporter as soon as he had finished motioning for his boys to disperse so the members of the school board could perform a song on the pavilion. But to his great shock, Marian beat him to it; he could only trail after her as she made a beeline toward the man who fancied himself a romantic rival to the great Professor Hill.

"Are you enjoying the festivities, Mr. Gallup?" the librarian asked in the manner of a benevolent hostess.

Mr. Gallup beamed at her. "I am, indeed," he said – though there was the faintest note of irony in his tone. "Tell me, Miss Paroo, what exactly is your role at the emporium?"

"She's my second-in-command," Harold interjected in a proud, booming voice as he stepped in between the two of them. "And quite the accomplished musician, herself. As I said earlier, her insights helped make the Think System the great success it is today."

Mr. Gallup's lips curled into a smirk. "I think the lady can answer for herself, Professor Hill."

Harold forced a laugh. "Who said she couldn't? But she can be quite modest about her talents, so I wanted to set the record straight."

"Gentlemen, I'm still here," Marian pointed out, her own mouth curving into an amused smile. "Feel free to address me directly at any time."

The music professor and the reporter immediately turned their attention back to the librarian. "Of course," they concurred, apologizing in unison. At that, the two men exchanged a wary glance, before Mr. Gallup went on, "Miss Paroo, I would love to hear more about your contributions to the Think System – in your own words."

As Marian talked in an animated fashion about her work at the emporium, Harold couldn't help scowling when he noticed that Mr. Gallup was appreciatively eying her low neckline as she spoke. Gloomily, the music professor wondered if it was too late to ask the librarian to wear her gold-and-green gown instead – perhaps once this tiresome interview concluded, they could snatch a quick moment alone together, and he could convince Marian to go home and change into a more conservative ensemble.

But that moment never came; Marian and Mr. Gallup's conversation was so bubbling they started to attract interested bystanders. Harold was further annoyed when the River City-ziens greeted the reporter nearly as warmly as they greeted him – the men smiled and nodded at his astute comments, and the ladies chirped and preened for him to pay attention to them. How in the world Mr. Gallup had managed to build such a rapport with the townspeople in such a short time, Harold couldn't determine – _he_ hadn't been able to wheedle his way into River City's highest social circles this easily. Even worse, the music professor was gradually shunted to the side as more and more people clamored to insinuate themselves into the discourse session between the librarian and the reporter.

Marcellus Washburn, who had never lost his inclination to keep a careful eye on things from the sidelines, came over to Harold. "It's a good thing you arrived to town first, Greg," he noted with an amused smile. "Otherwise you might have been greeting the maiden-lady librarian as 'Mrs. Gallup'!"

Harold scowled at his former shill. "Just you keep your eye on me during the band's next piece, son. You think the parade was good? Well, you haven't seen anything yet!"

Refusing to play second fiddle to this foolishness any longer, Harold marched off to round up his boys for the band's second set.

XXX

As Harold took his place in front of the podium on the pavilion, he allowed himself a quick glance at the crowd. Unbelievably, the commotion around Marian and Mr. Gallup was still as thick as when he had excused himself fifteen minutes earlier – which intensified his irritation anew. While the librarian was free to fraternize with whomever she pleased, she _was _the emporium's second-in-command, and today's performance was crucial to the success of their business. As such, her first consideration should have been lending her moral support to the band's next performance by gracing them with her presence – not neglecting her duties to gad about with some silver-tongued flatterer.

But it would do no good to dwell on Marian's lapse at present – there would be plenty of time to discuss the matter later. Channeling his energy into an utter determination to triumph, Harold turned his attention to his boys – who gazed at their beloved music professor with an endearing mixture of trusting admiration and nervous excitement. Heartened by this show of devotion, Harold raised his baton, and the band struck up John Philip Sousa's _Stars and Stripes Forever_.

At that, the excitement surrounding the librarian and the reporter immediately dissipated – the River City-ziens now jostled each other for plum vantage points of the pavilion. Pleased that his band was at the forefront of the townspeople's minds once more, Harold grinned and motioned for Zaneeta and her baton girls to light their sparklers. The twirling flashes of light caused an instant sensation, adding delightful drama to an already-stirring crescendo of music as the boys approached the end of the first part of the march's trio. When Harold revealed the band's next move – a trumpet-spinning sequence during the second repeat – the applause was so thunderous that the melody from the lone piccolo playing the obbligato was completely lost amid the clamorous din. Wisely, Harold had foreseen this possibility and not planned any tricks for the third repeat; now that he had everyone's full attention, he preferred to let the music take center stage, and simply directed the boys to play the final refrain with all the heart they could muster.

Even after the march came to its conclusion, Harold didn't allow the crowd to elude his grasp for long. Pausing only to acknowledge the fanfare with a brief bow – and to note with a pleased smile that Marian was now standing only a few feet away from where he was conducting – the music professor raised his baton, and the band went into _Seventy Six Trombones_. After the excitement of the Sousa march, this rehash of sorts might have seemed a letdown, but Harold knew it would give the River City-ziens a much-needed interlude of respite; after so much stimulation, a familiar tune would give them the time they needed to compose themselves, while still keeping them focused on the band. Once again, his careful calculation of proper pacing proved impeccable – the crowd settled down just in time for him to demonstrate the band's next showpiece.

Nodding at his boys, Harold slowed his conducting tempo, and suddenly the rousing march of _Seventy Six Trombones_ blossomed into the romantic melody of _Goodnight, My Someone_. After a few bars, Harold increased his pace until the band was playing _Seventy Six Trombones_ again. Then, after another interval, he slowed back down into _Goodnight, My Someone_. After two more of these "quick to slow" interludes – a challenging piece to conduct, what with the constant switching between 4/4 and 3/4 time – the band ended on the original march.

Thus the second set concluded, and the River City-ziens made just as much of a rapturous fuss over the _Seventy Six Trombones/Goodnight, My Someone_ medley as they had over John Philip Sousa's _Stars and Stripes Forever_. This time, Harold allowed himself to reap the rewards of a job well done; he grinned and gazed contentedly at the crowd as they cheered. He was further gratified to see that not only had Mr. Gallup secured a front-row seat to this grand spectacle, he was goggling at the music professor with a look of utter shock. _It's about time!_ Harold thought, and sent a small but triumphant wave of acknowledgment in the reporter's direction.

But the real treat was seeing Marian's reaction. Although she had overseen nearly all aspects of the program for the parade and concert, Harold had wanted this number to be a surprise, and therefore kept the rehearsals for it a secret. So in addition to being as awed and elated as everyone else in attendance, the librarian gazed at the music professor with an expression of deep fondness, her eyes glistening in the same beautiful way as they had that warm July night he confessed he was too in love with her to flee River City. For Harold knew only Marian would realize the romantic significance of intertwining these two songs. It was his love letter to her, delivered right under the noses of the unsuspecting townspeople; even the clever Mr. Gallup would be unable to fully deduce just what the medley meant to the two of them.

But this wonderful moment ended far too quickly. Although Harold regarded his beloved with an ardent look in return, he soon became distracted by the sheer commotion surrounding them. Unable to contain their pride any longer, mothers were pouring onto the pavilion to hug their exhausted but ecstatic sons. Mayor Shinn rushed over to shake Tommy Djilas' hand and, ever the politician, began to speechify to anyone who would listen about his role in transforming this "diamond in the rough" into a town treasure. And, of course, people were starting to swarm around the energetic music professor whose revolutionary new system made all of this possible.

Acting quickly – he wasn't about to let her slip away as she had that night at the high school – Harold reached out and grabbed Marian's hands, pulling her to his side just before the crowd completely blocked him off from her. After ensuring the librarian's arm was laced securely through his, he turned and thanked people for their enthusiastic support of the band's endeavors – his trademark grin broadening even further when he felt Marian give him a furtive, affectionate squeeze. Sneaking a glance at her, Harold was charmed to see that her expression was one of blushing delight – making him long to take her in his arms and plant several kisses on each of those gorgeous crimson cheeks.

But there would be plenty of time for that later – he would make sure of it. There was still a whole host of festivities to look forward to, including a delectable _al fresco_ luncheon the ladies of the Events Committee had set up in the field near Harold's emergency awnings. And, of course, he still had to put up with Mr. Gallup until the man finally boarded his train back to Des Moines. But perhaps the rest of the afternoon wouldn't be so bad – not only had Harold proved himself and his band to the skeptical reporter, Marian had made it quite clear with that loving look of hers just which of the two men she preferred as a romantic suitor.

Still, it was rather irksome to endure the reporter's perpetual presence. After an exhausting month of preparation and a long, nerve-wracking morning of conducting, all Harold wanted to do was retreat to a quiet corner for a little while so he could relax, partake in refreshment and enjoy a private tête-à-tête with the woman he loved. Mr. Gallup was a perceptive man; he should have had the decency to find a more welcoming place to eat his lunch. But the reporter unabashedly trailed after them, taking a seat right next to Marian on the blue gingham blanket Ethel had kindly loaned to Harold so he and his best gal could find their own picnic spot separate from the other River City-ziens.

Normally, Harold would have used his wiles to give Mr. Gallup the slip, but as the band still had one more number to perform, he felt it would be unwise to snub the reporter at this juncture. Still, the music professor didn't have it in him to turn on the charm as much as he should have, so his conversation was not nearly as sparkling as usual – even he had his limits. And it certainly didn't help soothe his steadily growing impatience to see that Marian bore the reporter's intrusion with a smiling graciousness bordering on sainthood. Throughout their lunch, Harold watched the librarian extremely carefully; not once did her eyes narrow, not once did she frown or lapse into one of her haughty glares, not once did she look the slightest bit weary or annoyed. On the contrary – Marian laughed and chattered with Mr. Gallup as merrily as she ever did with Harold. Either she was the consummate actress, or she genuinely enjoyed the man's interminable company.

When Mr. Gallup insisted on getting ice cream for the three of them – which wasn't as magnanimous a gesture as it might have appeared, since Ed Langford was generously providing dessert free to the attendees of this event – Harold seized the brief moment of privacy afforded to the two of them. Leaning closer until his lips were nearly brushing Marian's ear, he chuckled and said in a low voice, "I should've figured he'd finagle his way into eating lunch with us. I suppose discretion and tact are the first things to go when a man becomes a reporter!"

Although Marian simply laughed at this, it heartened Harold to hear the note of conspiratorial amusement in her voice. Lingering long enough to nibble at the curve of her ear in a playful but affectionate caress, he retreated to a more respectable distance as the still-giggling librarian attempted to give him a swat on the arm. Having gotten that nagging sense of uncertainty out of his system at last, Harold adopted a more gentlemanly demeanor, fully prepared to be a model of amiability when Mr. Gallup returned with dessert.

But his restored sense of exclusive camaraderie with Marian evaporated when Mr. Gallup inquired if she would be so kind as to open the library for him once she had finished with her ice cream. Giving the reporter a cordial smile, the librarian replied that she would be happy to accommodate him. Just like that. No declining, no demurring, not even a flash of concern in those honest eyes of hers. Harold couldn't believe it. Marian ought to have been aware that Mr. Gallup was much more dangerous than men like Mayor Shinn or even Charlie Cowell – with his irritating penchant for tracking down the truth, this reporter was more than capable of honing in on damning evidence that could destroy Harold's credibility. Although the River City-ziens esteemed and trusted him just as much as they ever had, people from other towns might be too skeptical to stake their children's musical educations on a curriculum developed by a former charlatan. If that turned out to be the case, Harold's fledgling business might not survive too many years past its promising beginnings; the emporium's potential for success would be tarnished if he couldn't eventually expand his operations and attract interested students from all four corners of the state and, eventually, the nation.

"Marian," Harold began, his consternation making him forget the wisdom of addressing her in a more proper manner around others, "are you sure there's enough time for that? I'm going to need your assistance to prepare for the band's final set."

"Of course," Marian smoothly replied. "But we still have at least another hour; lunch seems to be running late, and the Ladies' Dance Committee has yet to begin its own performance."

Harold would have continued to protest, but Marian flashed him a glance that belied her glibly unconcerned demeanor; for a split second, he swore he could see an almost desperately pleading look in her eyes. _Trust me, Harold_, her gaze seemed to say.

"Not to worry, Professor, I won't keep her for long," Mr. Gallup reassured him with a smile.

Harold nodded and, requesting them to return to the pavilion by quarter to three at the latest, he watched the woman he loved stroll off with the man who wanted to bring him down. Clearly, Marian wasn't as unaware of the danger as she pretended to be, but he still couldn't help wondering why on earth she was so readily aiding and abetting Mr. Gallup's attempted defamation of his character. If Harold could have gone along to chaperon without seeming suspicious, he would have leapt at the chance. But he was all schemed out; no decent alibis came readily to mind. Besides, it was high time he went to check on his boys – it wouldn't do to let them get too lax in their concentration before the band's final performance of the day.

XXX

When Marian and Mr. Gallup returned to the pavilion about twenty minutes later, Harold was ready for them. Roping the reporter into his grasp with a hearty clap on the back, he motioned for Mrs. Shinn and her ladies to join them. When he mentioned how Mr. Gallup was also a musician, the women immediately began cooing over him, pulling the hapless man deep into their web of endless prattle. Leaving them to devour their prey, Harold extricated himself from the conversation and, taking Marian by the hand, spirited her away to one of the awnings located deep within the park.

Once they were ensconced behind the safety of one of the heavy canvas flaps, Marian's demeanor became much more relaxed and she breathed a deep sigh of relief. "Thank heavens – a moment of peace!" she said, giving him a grateful look. "Oh Harold, what a day this has been! I thought I wouldn't be able to escape Mr. Gallup for at least another hour."

Instead of sharing in her exultance at being alone, Harold's annoyance increased. If the reporter's attentions were really so wearying, she could have found a way to extricate herself long before now. After all, she was an extremely clever woman who excelled at eluding unwanted suitors. Still, his heart couldn't help warming at her words, so he masked his true feelings with a congenial smile. "Yes… Mr. Gallup's managing to ingratiate himself with the townspeople worked in our favor, after all!"

Marian smiled at him in return. "That's partly your fault, you know."

Genuinely perplexed by such an idea, Harold raised an eyebrow at her. "Oh?"

She laughed, which irked him even more. "You mean to tell me you don't know? Since your arrival, River City has been much friendlier toward strangers."

Even though she said this in an affectionately teasing manner, he couldn't help remarking, "You've certainly been a lot more amiable than usual."

This time, it was Marian who raised an eyebrow. "Indeed?" she asked, her voice a touch cool. "Perhaps you're mistaking true amiability with polite cordiality. Besides, how can I avoid Mr. Gallup entirely? He's just as bad as you are when it comes to persistence!"

Marian was certainly excelling at saying all the wrong things this afternoon. Reaching the end of his forbearance at last, Harold snapped, "Well, maybe if you didn't encourage the man so much, you wouldn't have him following you around like a besotted lapdog!"

"What?" she gasped, sounding just as surprised and offended as when he confronted her about Mr. Madison in the library. His rational mind knew that Marian's baffled astonishment was just as genuine as it had been on that occasion – and was therefore strongly urging him to back down. But after a long and tiring day of having to grin while some snooty reporter attempted to dismantle everything he had built, Harold could no longer let go of his petulance.

"I'm simply speaking from past experience, Madam Librarian," he said cynically. "Who better than me knows just how skilled you can be at giving a man the brush off?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Harold," she said ominously, "if I were to snub Mr. Gallup, do you think that would bode well for the emporium's publicity? The last thing this enterprise needs is for an affronted reporter to write a critical piece about the Think System in one of the state's biggest newspapers!"

Feeling a strange, unpleasantly warm sensation in his cheeks, Harold realized Marian was absolutely right. Mr. Gallup had taking a liking to Marian – _What man could help wanting her?_ he ruefully wondered – and this was a boon because it provided an opening for the music professor, a way to soften the skeptical reporter and win him over to their cause. Marian was simply playing her part to ensure the success of the Think System. The sensible, calculating part of him already knew all this. So what was it about the librarian that made him want to behave like a reckless, hot-blooded teenager?

Perhaps it was her maddening ability to knock him off balance at the worst possible moment. Just as Harold was about to concede defeat, Marian scowled and added, "Besides, I have no cause to be impolite to Mr. Gallup – he's been nothing but a gentleman. Just because he can be a bit tiresome doesn't mean he deserves to be treated with scorn – after all, it's not like he's trying to pull the wool over the eyes of the River City-ziens!"

Harold's humble apology turned into a heated tirade. "That's where you're wrong, Madam Librarian. In his own way, he's just as much of a conman as I used to be – he's willing to use any means necessary to get what he wants. You might think he likes you, but mainly what he's trying to do is flatter you and gain your trust so he can wheedle as much information out of you as possible to make his smear job of a story complete. That man has been against me and the Think System from the start, probably before he even stepped foot in River City! I've met those types before; college-educated snobs who think that the entirety of a man's worth is measured by a piece of paper." He pointed his finger at her, shaking it for emphasis as he spoke. "And if Mr. Gallup's company is really all that bothersome, Miss Marian, you could do a lot better to find the middle ground between cold scorn and effusive cordiality!"

In response, she reached out and caught his waggling finger tightly in her hand.

Harold goggled at Marian. He had been punched, kicked, roughed up and slapped, but no one had ever grabbed his finger mid-point – let alone a young woman he was romantically interested in.

"I've always wanted to do that," she said with quiet satisfaction.

Harold struggled to find a suitable reply to the situation. If he hadn't been so out of sorts, he might have found his condition amusing; it really was quite something how such a simple gesture could render him so immobile.

Still grasping his finger, Marian gazed levelly at him. "After everything we've been through together, do you really think I'd abandon you for the first flashy stranger who comes along? My head isn't so easily turned as you seem to think!"

Again, Harold felt his face grow uncomfortably warm. "Of course not – you're the last woman I would ever accuse of being fickle or flighty," he said in a subdued voice. But the librarian's pleased, almost triumphant, expression reignited his ire – why did she have to be so damn _right_ all the time? – and he couldn't help adding, "However, I also know how charming men can be. Recall, if you will, how opposed to me you were when _we_ first met."

Marian's smile faded; she let go of his finger and gazed at him with a deeply wounded look. For one awful moment, Harold thought she was going to cry, and he wished with his entire heart that he had let her win this fight. Nothing was worth hurting her – not even salvaging the remaining shreds of his tattered pride. "Forgive me, Marian," he immediately apologized, "I shouldn't have said that last part – "

Marian's stricken expression hardened into one of haughty coldness. "What's the difference?" she said sharply. "You still would have thought it. To you, all women are one and the same: weak and helpless against the wiles of men." Her shoulders slumped, and she let out a bleak laugh. "Well, perhaps you're right – in the end, I turned out to be just as infatuated with you as any other woman you've ever known."

Alarmed by her listless despair – not to mention her use of the term _infatuated_ to describe her feelings for him – Harold belatedly tried to make amends. "Marian, you know I think the world of you, and I would never doubt your loyalty and strong moral conviction… " He trailed off when the librarian's face crumpled. "Oh no, darling," he tenderly pleaded, feeling his own features contort with sorrow as he reached out for her. "No… please don't do that… "

But Marian turned on her heel and fled before he could draw her into his arms.

XXX

_A/N – I know, I know, bad place to leave the reader hanging! I am hard at work on chapter three, which will (should) be the final installment of this fic. In the meantime, for those who are interested in hearing the music that inspired this chapter, a recording of "__Stars and Stripes Forever"__ can be found on __Wikipedia__ (scroll down to the "Media" section and click on the play button for the 1909 Edison Records recording or the United States Marine Band performance. Harold's "Seventy Six Trombones/Goodnight, My Someone" medley is inspired by the overture on the Music Man 2000 Broadway Revival Cast soundtrack._


	3. Crescendo Romantico

For a moment, Harold stood bereft beneath the awning, taking a few deep breaths in an effort to compose himself long enough to figure out what he should do next. If he followed Marian, he might cause a scene, which would only make things worse for them both. But he couldn't bear the idea of letting her go off heartbroken. Settling this sooner rather than later would benefit him as well; with the stress of their argument affecting his thoughts, he might not have the clear concentration he so desperately needed for the band's final set. Harold checked his watch – almost a half hour before they were due to perform. That was plenty of time to find Marian and, hopefully, secure her forgiveness. Intent on catching sight of the librarian before she disappeared into the crowd, Harold hastened back to open ground.

But he had waited too late to act; Marian was gone. Still, Harold was determined to find her, and asked anyone who crossed his path if they had seen the librarian in the last fifteen minutes. Strangely, nobody could provide him with any useful information. Marcellus, his usual eyes and ears, had been too busy canoodling with Ethel in an awning of his own. Even Mrs. Paroo was flummoxed, saying she would have guessed Marian was with him. The few people who had seen the librarian couldn't tell him anything more than that they'd spotted her walking briskly out of the park's main entrance and, assuming she was on some kind of important band-related errand, didn't think to observe what direction she took as she left. The only person Harold refused to pose the question of Marian's whereabouts to was Mr. Gallup and, in any case, the reporter was still too preoccupied with fending off Mrs. Shinn and her ladies to observe much of anything else.

When quarter to three rolled around, Harold glumly accepted that a pre-performance reconciliation between the two of them wasn't in the cards, and refocused his efforts on rounding up his boys. But as the audience gathered around the pavilion once more, Harold glanced around the park at various intervals; despite knowing how unlikely the scenario was, he couldn't help hoping that Marian would relent and return to watch the band's final performance. This number was an especially crucial display of the merit of his Think System – not only would Harold be conducting, he would also be playing the trumpet.

As ever, Mr. Gallup had secured a front-row seat to the proceedings and, through an oddly coincidental twist of fate, he was occupying the exact same spot Marian had stood earlier as she fondly watched him conduct the band's successful second set. Though the reporter now looked as avid as anyone to see what the man who had developed the Think System would do next, Harold had to repress a sigh. If he hadn't been such an irrational imbecile, it would be Marian with whom he was exchanging covert glances.

But there was no use bemoaning what could have been. And there was a slender comfort in knowing that even though the librarian had left, Mr. Gallup wasn't following after her in hot pursuit. In fact, the man looked rather chastened, as if something had taken the fight out of him. Perhaps the persistent reporter had finally met his Waterloo in clashing with the iron will of Marian Paroo – at any rate, his excursion to the library must not have proven as fruitful as he had hoped. Snapping out of his blue mood, Harold paused and raised his baton, waiting for the crowd to settle. When silence reigned throughout the park, the music professor motioned for the performance to begin, and the River City boys' band went into their swan song. As they had opened, so they closed with _Seventy Six Trombones_. But this time, the centerpiece of the song would be a trumpet solo from the music professor himself – the ultimate demonstration that everyone could learn the Think System if they put their minds to it.

Although he started off a tad shaky, Harold soon recovered and put on a performance rivaling that of the late, great Eli Paroo – or so a teary-eyed Mrs. Paroo proudly informed him shortly after the concert concluded. While he seriously doubted his amateur tooting was a match for the revered musician whose trumpet had touched the hearts of many, Harold was extremely gratified to observe that the River City-ziens certainly seemed to be wowed by his musical prowess. Even Mr. Gallup, who had already looked impressed, regarded him with an expression of respect bordering on downright admiration.

As ever, Harold remained keenly aware these accomplishments would not have been possible, had it not been for Marian's patient collaboration and incisive insight as he continued to develop the Think System. Now that the festivities had finally concluded, he wanted nothing more than to go looking for the librarian, but he couldn't even step off the pavilion. As the boys packed away their instruments and scampered off to enjoy the rest of the afternoon, the River City-ziens swarmed around the music professor like excited bees around a fragrant flower. In their eagerness to bask in his company, they wouldn't accept even his trusty lavatory excuse; as soon as Harold had managed to extricate himself from one conversation, he was immediately pulled into another. Normally, he would have reveled in being at the center of attention and cheerfully obliged his fans by declaiming to them in his usual magnificent manner. But it no longer mattered how loudly the crowd cheered or how adoringly people called out his name – as wonderful as the adulation was, he would have exchanged it all for one of his beloved's tender smiles. The fact that Marian wasn't there to witness the band's final performance took a little of the bloom off his triumph, and Harold discovered success didn't mean much if he couldn't share it with her.

When the last wave of River City-ziens dispersed nearly an hour later, Harold found himself alone on the pavilion with Mr. Gallup. Despite his weariness, the music professor managed to put on his "salesman" grin. "It's been quite a day, hasn't it?"

Mr. Gallup nodded. "It has indeed!" he concurred. "I must say, you've carved yourself quite the nice little niche in River City, Professor Hill."

Though the reporter was smiling at him, Harold was a bit uncertain as to whether these were words of congratulation or condemnation, so he noncommittally replied, "That I have."

Mr. Gallup's smile broadened. "In this business, you learn quickly not to let anything surprise you. But I must say, I was surprised today – and pleasantly so. You've really stumbled onto something special with this Think System of yours."

And Harold knew he had won at last. But he still couldn't relax, so he simply acknowledged the compliment with a slight tip of his plumed cap. Few men were a match for him, but Mr. Gallup could still be a dangerous enemy if he chose. Harold wasn't necessarily out of peril yet – the reporter still had to write his article for the paper – and he was determined not to, as Mayor Shinn once declared in one of his speeches, "snatch defeat from the jaws of victory."

And there was still the matter of the man's blatant pursuit of Marian. When Mr. Gallup politely inquired as to her absence, Harold smoothly lied, "Unfortunately, she had to go home – she said something about having a headache and feeling faint. Likely the heat is to blame. Hopefully she's feeling better as we speak, now that she's out of the sun."

The reporter nodded, but he regarded the music professor with a slight, knowing smile. "Well, I'm sorry to have missed her," he said earnestly. "Please give my regards to Miss Marian when you see her next."

Giving Mr. Gallup his trademark grin, Harold replied, "I'll gladly pass the word along to Miss _Paroo_."

For a moment, the reporter smirked and opened his mouth as if to respond with another sly barb. But then he seemed to think better of it, and his expression grew serious. "Before I go, Professor Hill, I'd like to ask you one final question. Strictly off the record, and you don't have to answer me if you don't want to." He eyed Harold in the frank, appraising manner of a man who wished to level with a friend. "It's none of my business, of course – but what are you waiting for?"

Despite his shock at this unexpected display of candor from the crafty reporter, Harold managed to keep his expression impassive. He wasn't about to discuss the subject with a would-be romantic rival, so he simply responded with a steady gaze that acknowledged the question but refused to answer it.

Mr. Gallup's lips twitched slightly, as if he was trying to smother an amused chuckle at this stone-faced reception to his inquiry. "Just giving you a bit of friendly advice, Professor Hill," he said kindly. "Whatever's holding you back, get over it fast. She loves you, but she isn't going to wait around forever. If I were you, I'd marry her soon, before another fellow comes along and snaps her up."

"Indeed," Harold said wryly, raising an eyebrow. "Got a fellow in mind, Mr. Gallup?"

The reporter's expression grew solemn and his shoulders slumped a little. "I made the biggest mistake of my life when I let Bess slip through my fingers. She was my high school sweetheart. I loved her very much, but there was always something that took precedence over proposing to her – my music… my job… my skittishness at the idea of settling down with one woman. She was patient with me at first, but after five years she'd had enough, and found a man who quickly realized what a fool he'd be if he let her get away… " He trailed off and sighed.

Harold felt an unpleasant twinge in the pit of his stomach – a sensation he immediately quelled. "I'm sorry," he sympathized.

Mr. Gallup gave him a genial smile. "The early bird gets the worm," he replied with a shrug. "Speaking of which, I'd better go catch my train now. Thank you for inviting me to come here and observe the Think System in action, Professor Hill – it's been a true honor and a pleasure."

Harold grinned and responded with similar pleasantries. Of course, it was easy enough to be magnanimous in victory, but the music professor had always genuinely liked people and he wasn't the type of man to hold a grudge against anyone. Besides, when the reporter wasn't trying to steal his gal or destroy his credibility, he was actually a rather pleasant fellow. So Harold could easily muster up the enthusiasm to send Mr. Gallup off with genuine good wishes.

After exchanging a hearty handshake with the music professor, the reporter for the _Des Moines Register__ and Leader_ turned and walked out of Madison Park, whistling what sounded suspiciously like _Seventy Six Trombones_ as he went.

XXX

With no remaining social obligations left to handle, Harold raced back to the boarding house. After shedding his conductor's uniform and changing into the first clean clothing he could get his hands on – which just so happened to be the brown plaid suit he wore when he first stepped off the train into River City's freight depot – he hastened to West Elm and knocked on Marian's front door. As he expected, Mrs. Paroo answered. Once again, she expressed surprise that Marian wasn't with him – and started to grow concerned that her daughter's whereabouts were still unknown. Thinking quickly, Harold snapped his fingers as if he had remembered something important, and assured the anxious woman that Marian mentioned to him she'd be at the library for the remainder of the day. At that, the worry vanished from Mrs. Paroo's countenance, and she bid the professor farewell with a good-natured sigh and a smile.

Hoping that he'd been inadvertently telling the truth, Harold headed to the library. When he found the building closed and locked, he tried the Candy Kitchen next, followed by the footbridge and then the lumberyard. When none of those places revealed the librarian's presence, Harold paused and racked his brain for other places his brooding beloved would be likely to have ended up. Wondering if he was going about his search the wrong way and that Marian was just as eager for a reconciliation between them, Harold checked the music emporium and did a more thorough circuit of Madison Park.

But she wasn't in any of those spots, either. Thoroughly alarmed, Harold checked several shops on and around Center Street – Ewart Dunlop's Staple & Fancy Groceries, Jeakins Women's Wear, the jewelers, the bank, the dry goods store, the mercantile, even the Pleez-All Billiard Parlor. When this excursion also proved fruitless, he returned to the emporium to regroup and ponder additional courses of action. Although the tenacious music professor quickly realized there were no other options outside of conducting a door-to-door survey or attempting to scour the vast cornfields outside of town, he refused to give up. Casting about for more ideas, Harold pulled out his pocket watch. It was nearly five o'clock – most River City-ziens would be sitting down to supper right about now. This thought led to the relieving reminder that no matter how upset she was, Marian would have to return home at some point. And he would be waiting for her at his usual lamppost – no matter how many hours it took.

But when six o'clock rolled around, Harold's patience had dwindled to near nonexistence. Soon it would be getting dark out, and he didn't relish the idea of returning to the boarding house without knowing what had happened to Marian. Even if she refused to talk to him, he at least wanted to make sure she arrived home safely. By the time the minute hand on his pocket watch reached six thirty, Harold was seriously contemplating going to Constable Locke. The only remaining question was if he should knock on the door and confess the situation to Mrs. Paroo. But he was having difficulty determining whether or not it would be too premature to burden her with such concerns at present.

Just as Harold decided Mrs. Paroo deserved to know what was going on, Marian rounded the corner to West Elm. She was still dressed in her parade finery, although her gown was slightly rumpled, there were beads of perspiration on her forehead and her new hat dangled listlessly from one hand.

Although Harold felt a multitude of emotions upon seeing the librarian, he forced his features into an expression of devil-may-care nonchalance and stepped away from the light pole he'd been loitering at. "Good evening, Miss Marian," he airily greeted, as if he hadn't been desperate to find her since mid-afternoon.

"Good evening, Professor Hill," she politely returned, sounding just as serene as he was pretending to be.

For a moment, his mask cracked, and Harold couldn't speak. He was too busy trying to control his impulse to scold Marian – or throw his arms around her. Even when he managed to recover his powers of speech, there was a definite edge to his voice as he informed her, "Everyone was looking for you after the parade."

Marian guiltily averted her eyes from his inquiring gaze. "I needed to be alone for a little while. So I took a walk… a long walk."

"So I see," Harold said tersely, eying her windblown curls, scuffed shoes and grass-stained hems. He'd never figured the librarian to be a woman who went for long rambles through pastures and farmland, but remembering her fondness for Jane Austen's nature-loving heroines, he suddenly realized it made perfect sense that she would retreat to the countryside for respite. Harold also realized just how badly he wanted to know where exactly she'd gone. But he refrained from asking. The plain fact of the matter was that he had no right to demand answers for anything, as he had made her no promises and still wasn't in a good-enough position to make her any just yet. Though such considerations would never have stopped Harold in the past, they provided a convenient excuse for him to avoid prying at present. He knew if he started pressing Marian for information, he'd lose his already-tenuous sense of composure. And he was on shaky-enough ground with her as it was – he couldn't afford to make another mistake, lest he spark another argument.

As Harold stared at her, trying to think of something to say that would move them past this awkward pause, Marian raised her eyes to his again, her right hand nervously toying with the gold bracelet she always wore around her left wrist. "Forgive me, Harold," she said apologetically. "I didn't mean to make you worry."

"I wasn't worried," Harold retorted, his laughter so forced even an addle-pated simpleton would have known it wasn't genuine. "I just thought to invite you out for a stroll."

When Marian gazed at him with pity in her eyes, he felt a surge of pure anger course through his veins. No woman had ever looked at him that way, and Harold refused to make a fool of himself any longer. Even if he had fallen in love, he was still a man, wasn't he? Since when did he allow any female to lead him around by the nose, like he was a whipped puppy? It was high time he stopped standing there and gawking at the librarian like a fawning idiot.

Bolstered by the resurgence of his masculine pride, Harold gave Marian his trademark "salesman" grin – the grin that demonstrated he was always in control and that life was a whimsical game that should never be taken too seriously. "As I said, I was looking to go on a stroll, but it seems you've already done quite enough walking for one day," he said with impeccable courtesy. "Good evening, Miss Paroo."

Pleased to see his sudden change of demeanor had startled the librarian, the music professor turned and left. If he'd had it in him to whistle as he walked along, it would have been a perfect exit. But Harold's nerves were too raw to even attempt such frivolity. If he failed to produce a convincing whistle, it would cause his careful charade to crumble; he would have to be satisfied with the knowledge that he'd managed to escape with at least a little of his pride intact.

"Harold," Marian softly called after him.

At his beloved's tender tone, Harold immediately halted and turned back. Although that mutinous voice continued to protest, he no longer cared enough to give it any credence. Marian was gazing at him with such love in her eyes that he couldn't help staring longingly back at her in return. For a long moment, they simply looked at each other.

"Let me change," she finally said.

Harold nodded and accompanied Marian to her front door. As he waited for her on the porch, he could only chuckle at his predicament. There was no fighting it, just as there had been no fighting it the night of July twenty-third. Over a month had gone by since then, and he was still a man in love – utterly, hopelessly, desperately in love.

Today, though, he had mainly been desperate. This irked Harold; desperation was not something he was used to – especially when it came to matters of amour. And despite the fact that he had defended his position as Marian's suitor and impressed Mr. Gallup with his Think System, he still couldn't shake that lingering twinge of anxiety in the pit of his stomach. He chuckled again, but this time it was tinged with annoyance – why couldn't he relax? He had won, hadn't he? In the end, that was what truly mattered.

Yet Harold couldn't help contemplating what could have happened, and his stomach remained ill at ease. Today's events showed him just how much he had gained during the past few months – and just how much he stood to lose. Before he came to this town, he was unencumbered by such concerns because he reveled in the freedom of going where he wanted and doing what he pleased. If a gambit failed, it was easy enough to hoist himself up, brush the dust from his suit and set his sights on the next scheme. But now that Harold had found something in both Marian and River City – something precious and irreplaceable – he would be damned before he'd let anyone or anything take it away from him.

When Marian came back outside, the first thing Harold noticed was that she had restyled her hair into its normal, tightly-wound chignon. Although her light-blue dress trimmed with white lace was a familiar sight, something about her attire unsettled him. At first, he couldn't figure out why – until he remembered that she was wearing the exact same gown as she had on the night of July fourth, when she coldly rejected his advances during the fireworks display at Madison Park. Although the librarian greeted him with a warm smile and gladly accepted his proffered arm, Harold couldn't help wondering if she had selected this ensemble on purpose, as a subtle warning to him that he should keep his distance.

But he soon found out distance seemed to be the last thing his beloved was after. Their stroll was unusually quiet, but Marian nestled a lot closer to him than he would have expected – even if they hadn't had that argument earlier. There was definitely something different about the librarian this evening, and Harold couldn't quite put his finger on it. Perhaps it was her mood; she seemed thoroughly at ease in his company, but at the same time her affectionate nuzzling conveyed a quiet but increased sense of yearning for his touch. Apparently, the time alone had done wonders for Marian's state of mind.

Or perhaps she was happily dreaming about their future together. This idea didn't surprise Harold at all. He was always thinking of his next step, so it was fitting that a woman as perceptive and clever as Marian would ponder the subject as well – especially after the day's stunning success. And he did have plans for her. But all in good time – for one, he had to secure the patent that would protect his financial interests. He also had to complete the necessary licensing and paperwork for his business and launch a bigger advertising campaign that would expand awareness of his new system – all while continuing to prepare his boys for upcoming concerts. And then there was the matter of purchasing a house…

Suddenly, Mr. Gallup's final question popped into Harold's mind, scattering his ruminations. Uneasily, he wondered if perhaps he ought to at least give Marian a peek into his plans concerning her, to prevent a Bess-type situation from occurring. But he soon dismissed the notion as hasty and imprudent. The librarian had proved herself quite the patient and understanding woman and, in any case, he certainly wasn't planning on keeping her waiting for five years. If he proposed to Marian out of sheer apprehension, he knew he'd sorely regret it – timing was just as essential to the success of his legitimate schemes as it had been to the culmination of his cons. When Harold finally made his promises, he intended they would be promises he could keep.

When they reached the footbridge, Harold turned to Marian and took her hands in his. For the past several hours, he had thought of nothing but smoothing things over with her. But to his amazement, he found that now the moment had come to make amends, he was still struggling with too many emotions to say anything coherent. "Marian, I – I – " he stammered, and trailed off as he felt the disconcerting blush creep back into his cheeks. Abashed, he waited for her to look at him with the same awful pity as she had earlier.

But Marian simply regarded him with a gentle smile. "Yes, Harold?" she asked amiably, as if nothing were amiss.

Her tactful response was just what Harold needed to recover his composure. Thanking whatever fortune, fate or deity had led him to fall in love with this "lady from the ground up," he gave his beloved's hands an affectionate squeeze and said, "Marian… I've been a fool today – a jealous fool. Forgive me?"

Marian's serene expression did not change; she continued to gaze at him with kindness and understanding. "You have nothing to be sorry for, Harold."

He vehemently shook his head. "Of course I do! I've been nothing but unreasonable."

Her smile turned sly. "I don't disagree with that assessment… but this was quite an important day for you. Considering the pressure you were under, it's no surprise you weren't your usual levelheaded self."

"That's still no excuse for treating you the way I did," Harold insisted. "I have plenty to be sorry for."

Now it was Marian's turn to shake her head. "I should be the one apologizing for all the worry I caused you when I disappeared for so long. I have no excuse other than that I sometimes forget I can't just take off for hours on end. But you're the only one who's ever bothered to closely observe my comings and goings. Mama trusts me completely and never worries too much about my whereabouts until nightfall, and no one else ever noticed or cared what I did – unless they saw something they could get the wrong idea about."

The sadness in her voice made Harold's heart ache, and he wondered just how often she had slipped away to be alone, before he came to town. "I don't just 'bother' about you, Marian, I _care_," he told her, trying to keep his voice steady as his emotions threatened to get the better of him once more. "I care a great deal."

Her eyes glistened in the twilight. "I know you do, Harold, which is why I couldn't stay upset at you for long. At first, I was hurt by your accusations, but when I remembered the irrational jealousy I experienced at your polite attentions to Miss Harper, I perfectly understood the way you must have felt at seeing me and Mr. Gallup together."

"Miss Harper!" Harold exclaimed, bursting into laughter. He raised Marian's hands to his lips and kissed the tips of her fingers. "Oh, my dear little librarian – how could you have ever thought I would look twice at Miss Harper? She could never be a threat to you in the slightest!"

"I could say the exact same thing about Mr. Gallup," Marian said solemnly.

"But unlike Miss Harper, the man is extremely charming," Harold protested, his eyes widening in alarm when he realized how similar that statement sounded to his earlier accusation. "Well, don't I keep putting my foot in it, today!" he tutted. "Darling, please don't take offense at my words – I didn't mean to imply anything."

Marian simply let out an amused laugh. "But you're absolutely right, Harold – the man _is_ charming." Removing her hands from his, she turned away a little and gave him that sly, sideways glance of hers. "But you more than anyone should know it takes a lot more than charm to gain this woman's trust."

Harold couldn't help grinning. "That I do," he acknowledged.

The librarian's demeanor grew serious, and she fully faced him again. "Mr. Gallup tried very hard to charm me – and not because of mere physical attraction. I know you feared I would be caught off guard by his flattery, but I was prepared for this possibility long before the reporter came to town. That's why I hid the _Indiana State Educational Journal_ the night before. But when Mr. Gallup caught up to me on my way to the library this morning, I realized even that wouldn't be enough to stop such a persistent man. So I subtly altered my path until I ended up at home, instead."

"I'd heard the library was closed this morning," Harold remarked with a smile.

"Yes," Marian said darkly, "but when Mr. Gallup requested I open the library this afternoon, I realized it would be unwise to stall any longer, which is why I agreed to take him there without protest… "

XXX

As Mr. Gallup headed straight to the section where the journals of education were kept, Marian waited nervously at the front desk. If only she could have refused to open the library! But if she declined, it might have led to open hostility between the reporter and the music professor. Normally, Marian would never have doubted Harold's ability to handle a trying situation. But the stress of the day had left him too on edge, and she couldn't afford to take the risk of her refusal leading to a row. Although the River City-ziens already knew what Mr. Gallup was trying so desperately to uncover, a confrontation could cause an unpleasant-enough disturbance to spoil everyone's enjoyment of the parade. The reporter was determined to find out the truth one way or another, and when he did, the librarian was determined it would be in a place that minimized the effects of his influence.

After only a few minutes of poking around upstairs, Mr. Gallup came back to the front desk. When Marian politely inquired if he needed help finding something, the reporter replied, "You seem to be missing the _Indiana State Educational Journal_."

The librarian arranged her features in what she hoped was a convincing but not too overdone expression of surprise, and promised to look into the matter immediately. But Mr. Gallup caught her by the hand as she went to check the shelf herself. "There's no need to go to all that trouble," he said with a smirk. "You know as well as I do the journal isn't there. In fact, I have a strong hunch that it will remain mysteriously missing until tomorrow morning – long after I've left town."

Determined to the last, Marian pulled out of his grip and feigned affront. "Why, Mr. Gallup, whatever would make you say such ridiculous things?"

The reporter's smile widened and he shook his head; he looked just like a long-suffering parent who had finally latched on to solid proof of his naughty child's mischief. "My dear Miss Paroo," he said fondly. "Has anyone ever told you that you are the most charmingly terrible liar?"

All day long, Mr. Gallup had been trying to get her to open up to him. Although Marian was extremely practiced at diverting unwanted attention, she soon found his polite but constant inquiries exhausting. But she had done a decent enough job of fending off the reporter – until now. Even she wasn't clever enough to smooth something this blatant under the carpet. Still, although Marian was caught, her sense of dignity remained as strong as ever. Other women might have broken down and confessed, but she was never the type to capitulate like that. Instead, she stood proudly as ever and glared at her nemesis, waiting for him to speak as if he was the one who'd been engaging in wrongdoing.

As the silence stretched on, Mr. Gallup seemed to realize he'd lost his advantage, and he gaped at her. "You're a smart woman, Miss Paroo," he finally burst, sounding positively flummoxed. "Why are you protecting this – this scoundrel?"

Marian knew she should remain calm, but she couldn't help bristling at this attack on the man she loved. "Now wait just a minute, Mr. Gallup – "

But Mr. Gallup waved away her objections. "I'll concede he's one of the most likeable men I've ever met – but that simply makes him a charming scoundrel. You know the truth as well as I do, and you don't strike me as the kind of person to let scoundrels get away with being scoundrels. Yet you've gone to amazing lengths to protect this Hill fellow. It can't be just because of your feelings for him. That might have been enough for some women, but not for you. So what makes _him_ worth what you're doing on his behalf?"

Realizing she had reached the point where saying nothing would only make things worse, Marian sighed and told the reporter the plain truth. "Mr. Gallup, I know you're having difficulty accepting the legitimacy of the Think System – despite everything you've seen today. But Professor Hill is a good man with honorable intentions – whatever he might have been before he came to River City. You don't know what this town was like before he arrived. There was precious little in the way of music or culture, the members of the school board fought like cats and dogs, my younger brother was a brooding child who could barely speak two words even to his own family, and I… " Realizing she was about to reveal too much, Marian immediately fell silent.

Mr. Gallup regarded her with a thoughtful expression. "You were a lonely librarian who had long ago consigned herself to spinsterhood," he finished.

Marian blushed and looked away. Once again, he had stumbled onto the truth. But this was one subject whose veracity she would never have admitted to anyone – let alone this cunning reporter.

Thankfully, Mr. Gallup let her discomfiture pass without remark. "If I may, I'd like to ask you one more question, Miss Paroo," he said gently. "You'll have to forgive me, but I still don't understand – what made you trust him?"

"Well… I'm not quite sure," Marian demurred, not wanting to be led into further intimacy with this stranger. She paused for a moment to gather her thoughts. "But I came to believe in Professor Hill's Think System. As he's proven the validity of this system more than once, does it really matter if he never acquired any formal academic credentials?" She met Mr. Gallup's eyes again, her gaze challenging and defiant. "Harold Hill had the talent, the vision, the drive and the know-how to bring music to life in a place that sorely needed it. That's good enough for us River City-ziens – and it ought to be good enough for anybody else!"

Mr. Gallup burst into laughter. "Miss Paroo, let me assure you that I have no qualms with Professor Hill's lack of formal education, despite my initial skepticism of his methods!" he said earnestly. "I'm simply a man who must know the truth, no matter what. It's my job to discern the reality of a situation, and report what I see. But you mustn't think I'm an unreasonable idealist who zealously adheres to the letter of the law, even at the expense of its spirit," he quickly added before she could protest any further. "Even a journalist can understand there are times when the greater good trumps the cold, hard facts." He paused and took her hand in his. "You're an eloquent woman, Miss Marian. It's a shame I didn't meet you first – any man would envy having such a loyal companion in his corner. I can only hope that Professor Hill proves worthy of your faith in him."

Although she knew she had won, Marian continued to feel dreadfully exposed. Even if Mr. Gallup no longer meant her and Harold any harm, he knew too many of their secrets for comfort. Giving the reporter a cool but gracious smile, she courteously replied, "You needn't worry about my welfare – I am more than capable of looking after my own interests."

Taking the hint, Mr. Gallup nodded and let go of her hand. "Of that there is no doubt," he concurred with a wistful smile.

But Marian still couldn't relax, and briskly moved to open the front doors of Madison Public Library. "Forgive my haste, Mr. Gallup, but it's time for me to close the library, or I won't make it back to Madison Park pavilion in time for the band's final set."

XXX

"Oh, darling," Harold gently chided after Marian had finished her story, "why didn't you tell me what happened? Now I feel even worse about my behavior earlier!"

Marian regarded him with an exasperated smile and shook her head. "Would you have refrained from confronting Mr. Gallup about his interview?"

"Of course not!" he said hotly. "I would have given the man a piece of my mind. Even if he was just doing his job, how dare he unsettle you like that!"

She laughed. "I'm _fine_, Harold. He did pry into my affairs a lot more than I would have liked, but he never tried to press his advantage. He truly is a gentleman at heart, despite his flirtatiousness." For a moment, she paused and gazed at him with those wide, honest eyes of hers. "And the discomfort I felt was a small price to pay to win the reporter to our cause. Whatever you were in the past, you are now a legitimate music professor with a sound curriculum, even if it is a bit unorthodox. I wasn't about to let this crusader for the truth undo everything you've worked so hard to achieve!"

Captivated by her fervent defense of him and his interests, Harold grasped Marian's hands and pressed his lips against them. "If I didn't know it before, I certainly know now just how foolish it was of me to feel threatened by Mr. Gallup!" he said with a laugh. "But I couldn't help it, Marian; sometimes I still can't quite believe that I have such a loyal companion in my corner. And I _do_ thank my lucky stars that I met you first!"

Marian shook her head again. "Harold," she said earnestly, "even if I had met Mr. Gallup before you, I could never feel anything more for him than indifference. No man has ever left as strong an impression on my mind and heart as you – and no man ever will."

Her words made Harold's stomach churn again, and all he could do was look at her. He wanted nothing more than to express in words just how much she meant to him in return, but he wasn't certain just what to say – nor was he certain just what was safe to admit at this still somewhat-early stage of their relationship. As the silver-tongued music professor struggled to come up with something appropriate but eloquent, a sudden breeze stirred Marian's wide collars.

Seizing the momentary distraction, Harold brushed the delicate lace with the tips of his fingers and asked, "May I?" As she blushed and nodded, he gently smoothed the creased fabric flat.

His actions proved to be the save their conversation needed. After thanking him, Marian continued, "When I went inside to change earlier, Mama told me how wonderful you were on the trumpet. I'm so sorry to have missed it."

Harold shrugged. "Well, it doesn't really matter – I'm sure you'll have plenty of opportunities to see me perform in the future. And you were there for the most important piece – _Seventy Six Trombones_ and _Goodnight, My Someone_."

She beamed at him. "It was a wonderful surprise! I wouldn't have dreamed you'd think the first song we ever sang together was significant enough to commemorate."

"My dear little librarian," he admonished, "do you really think I could ever forget the night we both admitted our feelings for each other? How could I not find a way to commemorate such a life-changing event?" He reached into his pants pocket and retrieved a small package wrapped in brown paper. "And I have another surprise for you – a token of my esteem for all your hard work in helping me develop the Think System."

Marian laughed as he handed the gift to her. "Oh, for heaven's sake! You really didn't have to," she protested – though she looked pleased, all the same. And when she saw that the package contained a shiny silver bracelet, she gasped with delight.

Harold grinned. "Look on the inside."

Marian immediately brought the bracelet to eye level, and squinted at it. "If only I had my spectacles!" she tutted as she examined the bauble. "Harold," she said in an awed voice a few moments later, "are those dates?"

He nodded. "Three very important dates: July third, July twenty-third and August thirty-first."

Her eyes shining, Marian threw her arms around him. "Oh, Harold!"

"So I take it you like your surprise?" he chuckled, hugging her in return.

Marian let go of him and wiped her eyes. "It's the most romantic gift anyone has ever given me." After a few moments of gazing fondly at her bracelet, she looked shyly at Harold. "Will you help me put it on?"

"Of course!" Taking the bauble from her, Harold undid the clasp and slid it around her left wrist. "Don't get too attached to it, though," he warned with a wink. "I might need to borrow it back to engrave additional dates someday… "

She gave him a sly smile. "You might have a hard time getting it back… but I suppose I could be convinced otherwise – depending on the occasion being commemorated."

Alarmed at the direction the conversation seemed to be headed, Harold immediately tried to think of a non-obvious way to change the subject. For a moment, he was tongue-tied – until his gaze fell on the gleaming silver bracelet again, and he realized something. "Marian," he asked with genuine curiosity, "what happened to your gold bracelet?"

This time, it was Marian's turn to look uncomfortable. "Oh… well, gold doesn't really go very well with such a pale shade of blue, so I decided to retire it to my jewelry box for the time being. Besides, it's been showing a little wear lately – it needs a good polishing before I can wear it in public again… but I'm sure you don't want to hear too much more about such mundane feminine matters." Before Harold could press her further, she removed a small box from the folds of her gown and handed it to him. "And as it just so happens, I also have a gift for you."

The music professor couldn't help grinning when he saw his present. "Cufflinks in the shape of trumpets!" he marveled, impressed by the exquisite workmanship of the tiny silver baubles. "Wherever did you find these?"

"I ordered them from a specialty jewelry shop in Davenport," Marian said, regarding him with an uncertain smile. "Do you like them?"

Harold's grin faded. "Marian, do you know how many years it's been since someone has gotten me a present of any kind – let alone such a thoughtful gift?" he said solemnly. "I love them."

Relief flooded her expression. "Oh, thank heavens!" she said happily. "I was going to give them to you this morning so you could wear them as you led the parade, but with Mr. Gallup's unexpected arrival, I wasn't able to do so. Perhaps you can wear them another time."

Harold grinned again. "I'll wear them whenever I conduct in the future," he avowed, taking her left hand in his so he could kiss her silver bracelet. As his lips continued to linger over her wrist, he grew serious once more. "Marian… who gave you the gold bracelet?"

Marian, who had been sighing languidly at his touch, stiffened slightly. "It was a birthday present from Uncle Maddy," she explained, the slight coolness of her tone a warning for him to tread carefully. "He gave it to me a few months before he died."

Perhaps it would have been wiser to drop the matter, but Harold was too curious to resist pursuing it. "It's no surprise you treasure it," he said sympathetically. "Which makes me even more surprised you're not wearing it – I don't think I've ever seen you without it in all the time I've known you."

She smiled and shrugged. "As I told you, it was getting a bit tarnished. And its absence left room for your gift, so it was appropriate for me not to wear it tonight."

Determined to get the truth out of her one way or another, Harold grinned and leaned closer. "But how could you have possibly known I was going to present you with a bracelet?"

Marian's smile wavered. "Women's intuition?"

Realizing he'd better ease up a little, Harold sighed and moved away. "Mr. Gallup was right – you _are_ a charmingly terrible liar," he teased, wagging his finger at her.

Her eyes twinkling with mischief, the librarian reached out and caught his finger.

This time, Harold knew exactly how to respond. Closing his other hand over hers, he bent his head and dropped several gentle kisses on her fingers. When her hand relaxed in his, he turned it over and stroked her palm with his thumb. As Marian began to gaze dreamily at him, Harold grinned and asked, "Do you remember that day in July I caressed you just like this, on our first-ever stroll together?"

Although she was clearly enjoying his ministrations, he had to give her credit for maintaining a cool-enough head to wryly retort, "Yes – but mainly because you tried to charm me into a kiss by quoting _Romeo and Juliet_."

Harold couldn't help chuckling at this; even after two months of courting, his prim librarian refused to surrender herself so easily. Normally, he would have said something flippant and flirtatious in response to her impish remark. But somehow, the music professor wasn't in the mood for lighthearted banter; tonight, he yearned for something a little more substantial. "That I did," he acknowledged. "But even then, it was more than a game to me."

Just as he hoped, Marian's eyes started to glisten in that beautiful way again. "I _do_ remember the way you looked at me… and I often wondered about that."

He nodded. "That afternoon was the first time I started to realize I genuinely had feelings for you."

She gazed steadily at him. "So did I."

Harold was stunned. He had surmised Marian was starting to warm to him during their stroll, but the level of emotion in her voice as she uttered this simple admission indicated her feelings for him were far stronger than she let on – even at that early juncture. That, more than anything, convinced him just how much she truly cared for him. Once again, Harold found he couldn't trust himself to speak. He had been attempting to avoid engaging in outright canoodling until he felt certain he had satisfactorily regained control over his emotions, but the point had come where – amazingly enough – an ardent embrace seemed much safer than continuing their conversation.

So Harold finally allowed himself to indulge in a little petting. Cupping Marian's face in his hands, he methodically kissed every area he was presently allowed, beginning with her forehead and then moving down to her nose, before meandering across her cheeks to nibble lightly at her ears. As she giggled, he moved his hands down to softly stroke her neck as he trailed kisses across the line of her jaw. Harold longed to explore the contours of Marian's throat with his mouth, but felt it was too soon to take such liberties, and contented himself with stroking his thumbs along the sides and nape of her neck. As her light laughter trailed off into breathy sighs, his mouth found hers, and they stayed in that embrace for awhile.

When his fingers twined in a few loose curls and he pressed gently forward, seeking a deeper kiss, her lips parted willingly beneath his, and she wholeheartedly welcomed him. The openness and trust Marian demonstrated made his heart constrict, and Harold knew he should end things before they got too heated. But the last time he had kissed her this deeply was over a month ago – the evening after he had decided to stay in River City. Then she had been retiring, but now she returned his kiss just as eagerly. Wrapping his arms around Marian's waist, Harold allowed himself the luxury of enjoying this closeness for as long as he could; he still had a ways to go before he could fully express his love and passion for her.

But even when Harold finally managed to let Marian go, he realized that wasn't enough to quell his emotions, either – on the contrary, he felt even less composed than when they had started.

Fortunately, Marian spoke first. "So you're a legitimate music professor and businessman now, Harold," she said admiringly. "What do you plan to do next?"

Harold broke into a wide grin. He _was_ a legitimate music professor and businessman, and his second success was even more intoxicating than the first. "Mayor Shinn has already asked me about my plans for an Easter parade next year!" he proudly proclaimed. "I already have several ideas for the occasion, and I can't wait to start putting them into action. As soon as I mail out my patent application for the Think System tomorrow morning, I'm going to get right to work!"

Marian looked just as thrilled as he felt. "Oh Harold – that's wonderful!" she said excitedly, as if it were her own dreams coming true.

At that, the last vestige of restraint finally gave way, and everything he had been holding back came pouring out. Taking the librarian's hands in his, Harold pressed several ardent kisses against them. "Oh, Marian – you don't know how terrified I was that today's parade was going to be a bust!"

Marian looked stunned. "Harold," she gasped, "I knew you were nervous… but terrified? _You_?"

Undone at last, Harold gave her a sheepish nod. "Every single day I wondered if the success of the Think System had just been a lucky fluke. Even when the boys showed marvelous progress, I couldn't shake the worry that the grand parade we were spending so much time rehearsing for would turn out to be nothing but one, big spectacular failure. Because if the parade _was_ a failure, I wasn't sure how else I was going to prove myself worthy of you." Although Marian's gasp alerted him to the fact that he was wandering into potentially dangerous territory, he went on talking rapidly, eagerly, unable to stop himself. "And even though the Think System ended up triumphing once more, and my trumpet solo was one of the most stunning successes of my entire life, it means surprisingly little to me because you weren't there to see it. I know that it was entirely my fault that you weren't there, but it still stung. Darling, you would have laughed to see me afterward – there I was, surrounded by people who wanted nothing more than to hear me talk, and I was miserable because all I could think of was getting back to you. But the adulation of the crowd no longer satisfies me the way it used to – your regard is what matters most. Everything – and I mean every single thing – I have done since staying in River City was with you in mind. Marian, there's never a time when you're not in my thoughts, or I'm not eagerly anticipating our next meeting… "

At this point, it finally registered in his love-addled mind that the librarian was gaping speechlessly at him, her jaw hanging open as he spoke. So Harold trailed off and took a deep breath, attempting to rein in his effusiveness as best he could. "Darling, I'm sorry – I never meant to frighten you with the intensity of my feelings. I understand if you're not yet ready to hear these things. I've been trying _not_ to tell you this all evening, but it's been eating at me for some time now. So I might as well admit the plain truth of the matter." He paused, and looked her steadily in the eyes. Perhaps he shouldn't have gone on any further, but now that he was teetering on the edge of the precipice, Harold thought he might as well dive headfirst into it with his usual gusto. "I love you, Marian Rose Paroo – I love you so much."

At that, tears started streaming down the librarian's cheeks, which increased Harold's discomfort. Although he had seen his beloved upset, he had never actually seen her cry before – and never like this. "Why, Marian!" he said, startled and alarmed.

Looking thoroughly embarrassed, Marian pulled out a handkerchief and started dabbing at her eyes, but she was just as unable to contain her emotional outburst as he had been unable to stop his. After a few moments, she seemed to simply give up, and tucked her handkerchief back into her gown. Turning away from him, she gripped the railing of the footbridge as she continued to weep softly but profusely.

The temptation to pull her into his arms was nearly overwhelming, but Harold managed to resist. He had lost control once this evening, and done more than enough damage already. "Darling, I'm sorry," he ventured in a low, pained voice when her sobs began to subside. When she didn't respond, he scowled and berated himself aloud, "I knew I should have kept my damn mouth shut – "

Marian whirled around to face him, her tear-stained cheeks gleaming in the moonlight. "Oh, no Harold!" she said vehemently, putting her hands on his arms. "Forgive me for carrying on like that, but I couldn't help myself." She paused, and took a deep, shuddery breath. "You don't how I've been longing to hear you say such things. You don't know how long I've wished and hoped and dreamed you would tell me you loved me that deeply – that intensely."

Harold gaped at her. "Marian," he said, incredulous, "I thought you knew."

She gazed at him with apologetic eyes, and Harold felt an unpleasant twinge in his stomach as he realized that perhaps she didn't know. Although they had confessed their love for each other on the night of July twenty-third, they had danced around the notion ever since. The closest they had come to saying it in the past month was the evening after Marian had sent him the de Parny poem, _Le Baiser_. But even though they both admitted they still felt as strongly for each other, neither of them had actually uttered the words.

Harold sighed. "Here I thought I was speaking too soon," he said with a chuckle, "when I should have told you these things a long time ago!" He took her hands in his, and his voice grew serious once more. "I should have been telling you I loved you all along."

Marian gave him a wan smile. "Don't be too hard on yourself, Harold. Given the precariousness of your position, there's always been uncertainty with you… with us. As you said just before Miss Harper interrupted our date at the Candy Kitchen that night, we have a hard road ahead. Even now that the path has been smoothed a little by the success of the Think System, the last thing I ever want to do is take you or your feelings for me for granted."

"Yes, but remember, my dear little librarian, that I also told you I'd be in your corner, whatever happened," he reminded her.

Marian bowed her head, and her shoulders started to tremble. Concerned, Harold put two fingers beneath her chin and gently lifted her to face him. As he had surmised, she was weeping again. "Oh, darling," he pleaded, his voice an ardent whisper, "please don't do that… "

"I – I'm sorry," she stammered in between sobs, and retrieved her handkerchief again.

But Harold moved quicker. Pulling Marian into a tight hug, he kissed her tears away one by one, pausing every so often to whisper "I love you" into her ear. After a few moments of his gentle ministrations, her tears ebbed and the sorrow in her sighs faded. But the librarian continued to sigh in his embrace, her breathing as unsteady as if he were caressing her everywhere – although his arms remained firmly wrapped around her waist. Harold had loved her with words before – appellations of endearment, flirtatious banter, flattering compliments, clandestine poems – but this was something else. He had to stop before they got too carried away.

But when he ended their embrace and their eyes met, Marian said in the softest, sweetest voice he had ever heard, "I love you, Harold Hill – I love you with all my heart."

In that moment, Harold felt a warmth that soothed him to his soul, and he realized just how much he had been needing to hear her say that she loved him in return. Yet at the same time, her words proved to be his undoing – reaching out, Harold pulled her back to him. When his mouth possessively covered hers, Marian's lips immediately parted beneath his, and they shared another deep kiss.

Much later, the music professor and the librarian finally found the will to let go of one other. As soon as they parted, Harold politely requested the pleasure of escorting her home – although his voice shook a little, as it never had before. And although Marian gave him her usual gracious assent, her smile lacked its normal serenity. Perversely, Harold felt like bursting into laughter. There had been so many declarations, so many kisses – and in such a short time! But it still didn't seem to be enough – for either of them. If they continued on at this rate, he'd never be able to prevent himself from going too far. And for once, it wasn't the physical Harold was primarily concerned about. But as they made their way back to West Elm, Mr. Gallup's question kept echoing feverishly through the besotted music professor's mind. What _was_ he waiting for?

Even though Marian nestled against him just as closely as she had on their way to the footbridge, the silence between them remained awkward. But Harold didn't try to fill it, lest he dismantle the tenuous civility that prevented them from engaging in any more canoodling. He didn't even allow himself to look at the librarian. They had both let their guard down quite a bit this evening, and were still in danger – one word, one glance from Marian, and he would have taken her right back to the footbridge. They would have shared many more deep kisses, but that was the least of his worries – in between those kisses, Harold would have whispered a question he knew he wasn't ready to ask just yet.

Still, he harbored no regrets about what had happened between them. In fact, he felt a curious sense of giddiness. Harold had finally told her everything – well, almost everything. And her response was beautiful – everything he had been hoping for, and more. But as they returned to town, he couldn't help wondering if Marian would recall their outing with similar fondness. Like him, she was loath to display too much vulnerability; upon further reflection, she might start to wish she hadn't been so forthright. Perhaps her demeanor at their next meeting would be painfully polite, and they'd begin the cycle of courtship and confession all over again…

But when they reached Marian's front porch and she turned to bid him goodnight, Harold's apprehensions vanished when, to his surprise and delight, the librarian threw her arms around him.

"You were wonderful today, Harold," she said warmly, her tone and conduct revealing a woman who was supremely content and at ease with her lover.

Harold wound his arms around her waist in return. "So were you, darling," he said gratefully. His lips brushed her ear as he pulled her closer and whispered, "I love you."

Marian buried her face in his shoulder and hugged him even more tightly.

At last, it seemed to be enough; although they stood together for awhile, they both moved away from each other at the same time, as if parting by silent but mutual agreement. However, Harold did allow himself to give Marian a brief but tender goodnight kiss on the lips – a kiss she happily returned before going inside. Normally, he would have limited himself to a handclasp after they'd shared such a passionate tryst (one of the many rules he had written for himself to ensure he maintained self-control), but it seemed far too cold a farewell, considering everything they'd been through that day.

Harold had reached the front gate when the upstairs tower windows lit up, and he turned back at the sudden influx of illumination. Although the blinds were lowered all the way and there was nothing to see but shadows, he was so captivated by the librarian's silhouette moving about her bedroom that he lingered until she had completed her evening ablutions and extinguished the light once more.

Secure in the knowledge that he and Marian were continuing to make excellent progress at a pace that was neither too fast nor too slow, Harold set off for home, whistling _Seventy Six Trombones_ as he went.

XXX

_A/N – I'd like to give a hearty shout out to my dear friend Tmyres77 for her expert assistance with the technical aspects of trumpets and marching bands in general! I would also like to thank her for her many hours of beta-reading my fics and being a great sounding board for new ideas – the MG Universe would be poorer without her enthusiastic support._


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